Voices from beyond
Each month, a reader writes to a loved one in the afterlife and Mandy Masters tunes in to share their reply. This month, Debbie Turnbull writes to her son, Chris
Mandy doesn’t read your letters in advance. She is given only your first name and relationship to the person you’d like to speak to in Spirit
Dear Chris,
I remember the day when you first nestled into my arms — my miracle baby doctors told me I’d never have.
I’d had one of the worse cases of endometriosis the consultants had ever seen, so when I began to feel poorly, the last thing I expected was to be pregnant.
At the hospital, doctors did an ultrasound.
Here’s the heartbeat,’ they explained, as they reached my tummy.
How on earth would my heartbeat be picked up from there… I thought.
‘No, not yours. The baby’s heartbeat,’ the doctor smiled.
Well, to say your dad, John, and I were shocked was an understatement.
When you arrived, you looked so perfect.
But amid the happiness that filled the room, my joy turned to fear.
‘He won’t be with us long,’ I told my friend, Liz, when she came to visit us in hospital.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d die at a young age.
I’ve always been a spiritual person. I believe there’s more to the world than we can see.
As you grew, that weird feeling was so unsettling, it lingered in the background of everything we did.
You were a curious toddler. When you were three, we all went on holiday together to Tenerife, staying in a lovely villa with a pool.
I was standing at the side watching you when you jumped in with your armbands on. You went under the water and bobbed back up again — and it was only then I realised one of the armbands had deflated.
Quick as a flash, I got in the water, worried as I knew you couldn’t swim. Except there you were, kicking and splashing… and swimming!
By the time we arrived back home, you were swimming unaided.
As you grew older, you became a strong swimmer and your love of the outdoors continued. John and I moved to the Conwy Valley where we began running a pub near a bunkhouse where large groups of up to 100 squaddies and young cadets at a time would come to stay.
Sometimes, you’d accompany them on adventures, canoeing or learning how to build rafts.
One of your biggest passions was playing rugby, a sport you took up at the age of 11. You often toured with our local team, Colwyn Bay Rugby Club. You loved it and made lots of special friends there.
But although our life was idyllic, I still couldn’t shake that horrible feeling that something bad was going to happen to you.
I remember the day you came home from school and told me you’d nearly fallen out of a third
